Seeds for Persephone
by Spinereader
Summary: What happens when we peer into the abyss and find ourselves? Sayu and Mello, general, set during chapter 62 and up.


**Title:** Seeds for Persephone  
**Disclaimer:** Obata and Ohba brought these characters to life, and Viz published their story. I...just wrote a fanfic for the fun of it and didn't get paid.  
**Warnings:** Nothing serious, just mob guys being pushy and one exploiting his position.  
**Summary:** What happens when we peer into the abyss and find ourselves? Sayu and Mello, general, set during chapter 62 and up.  
**Author's Note:** My timing is just wonderful, right when the anime catches up and probably contradicts a good hunk of this. Please try to think of the manga canon and forget the anime when you read this.

* * *

**Mello**

For once the common room was a flurry of activity as everyone scurried about, finalizing plans. We were hijackers again, this time with a hostage who was alive and hopefully staying that way if I could help it. Pulling these things off was a pain in the arse enough without the hostage snuffing it.

"Damn, Marcus has been alone with the hostage at least ten minutes," noted Ross without glancing up from his palm pilot. "He better not do anything to fuck up our agreement with Yagami."

I tensed as a sense of dread overtook me. When it came to Marcus, assuming the worst wasn't pessimism, it was necessity. How he'd made it six months longer than me without getting himself whacked was beyond me. Of course if that pervert was doing what I suspected, that would likely change soon.

If one can storm about whilst racing, I did just that through the hallways. What room had Ross designated as hers? I knew it was one of the junky old suites belonging to one of the idiots offed in the fight with Lopez's gang last month

There came a dull clunk from behind a door about ten metres away. That was my answer.

The door opened easily, given that it wasn't even locked. Ah, further proof of the man's idiocy. In the small, windowless room, illuminated only by the television's glow, I made out the girl crouched and pinned against the wall as though it would grant her wish and pull her inside. Marcus knelt over her, trousers and pants down. With one hand he tried to push her head against his prick, and with the other tried to opened her clamped jaws. It wasn't often I saw a woman put up a fight and I found it very refreshing.

"Hey, open your mouth and bite it off," I quipped, nodding to Sayu. Her head shot up as she gave a gasp. Marcus turned to look at me in confusion. He didn't speak a word of Japanese. No one in this gang besides me did. I always did enjoy that advantage over them.

Stupid though he was, the wanker (quite literally) at least inferred that any chances of fun were gone now. With annoyance but no sign of guilt, Marcus redressed. Judging by how gingerly he did so, it was obvious his body hadn't realised the opportunity was lost.

"What part of "do not lay a finger on the hostage" did you not understand?" I ground out as he approached the doorway.

"Sorry Mello, I figured you just meant we couldn't penetrate her or cause physical harm," explained Marcus with false innocence.

"Why Boss ever trusts someone like you is beyond me," I told him icily. The man slipped past me, paying me no mind.

Sayu, with limbs still bound, tucked her legs up to her chest, resting her chin on her knees. She peered up at me anxiously, though I knew from my place against the doorframe I was no more than a shadow to her.

"Um, thank you," she said after a minute or so of me studying her, trying to assess the damage. From what I could tell, Marcus hadn't done anything else to her.

"Yeah, well." God I hated gratitude. I never did know how to respond.

There was no real need for me not to lock the door and head back to the common room, but guilt niggled at me. For some reason I couldn't take seeing girls in distress without feeling a need to take some action. So I went in and settled on the futon, hoping it was dark enough that she couldn't see me well.

I had no idea whether I ought to say something and frankly had no interest in making small talk, so I grabbed the remote on the table in front of me and flipped through the channels. Nothing was on and I settled on something called Fresh Prince of Bel-Air, according to the cable display. It was quite stupid but it didn't matter. Once Sayu stopped peering at me and contemplating whether or not I was a threat, I'd leave.

As an inane advert selling Lord knows what came on, Sayu spoke again.

"Mello? Is that what he called you?" There was a "please don't blow up at me for asking" note in her voice, making me tempted to do just that.

"Yup," I said boredly. "And no one will hurt you so you can quit quivering. That fucker will pay for what he did."

The girl did seem to calm down ever so slightly.

On the screen Will began flirting with an amused girl in the cafeteria.

"I'm Hostage but you can call me Sayu," the girl offered, trying to sound light hearted. I got the sense that this was someone who was usually cheerful and outgoing, perhaps a bit young for her age. Of course next to me most people would seem young for their age. I wasn't even twenty yet and I still felt like the bitter old man who rolled his eyes when someone ignored a warning and got injured, or screaming at kids to get off his lawn. I kept forgetting how recently I was a kid.

"You going to try running away or shall I untie you?" I asked, dripping false sweetness with a steel edge that dared her to try it.

She vigorously shook her head before realising the ambiguity of such an action.

"I won't do anything, I promise." She flashed a small, grateful smile.

I pulled up a trouser leg and slid a knife out of my shoe. Sayu flinched unconsciously as I languidly rose and approached her, pulling the blade from its sheath. I ignored this as I turned her facing the wall and sliced through the duct tape on her wrists and ankles.

"Thank you," Sayu told me once again, ripping off the strips of tape and wincing whenever she did so.

I shrugged, replacing the knife and returning to my spot on the futon. On the screen someone named Carlton was getting hell from his father for helping Will do something or other.

A few moments later Sayu joined me, sitting as far on the other side of the futon as possible and crossing her legs protectively. The message was evident: _I'm terrified of being alone but even more of being touched_. She needn't have feared; I was the last person who'd molest a woman. With all the strippers and porn I'd reluctantly endured watching with the others, I'd seen enough screaming, moaning and silicone to last a lifetime.

As the screen changed to a burger ad, my memory jolted.

"You'd better get used to having fast food brought in because it's all you'll be getting here," I threw out. Sayu didn't seem to hear me as she stared pensively at the screen.

Friends, that bad Coupling knockoff, came on next and I went through the channels in hopes of finding something decent. When I found Rocky and Bullwinkle I stopped. Less than two days until the most major kidnapping I ever attempted and I was sitting here watching Bullwinkle with the hostage. I was ready to get the hell out of there until she spoke.

"Mello?" she posed hesitantly. "Could you be honest with me? I won't do anything crazy if my fears are confirmed."

Oh yes, I should have left straight away after throwing Marcus out.

"It depends," was my honest response. If this was about the Note I wasn't about to answer.

"Will this end up like the Lindberghs?"

That question I wasn't expecting. Why did I know that name?

"Their son was kidnapped," elaborated Sayu. "The kidnappers sought some ridiculous amount of money in exchange for the boy. They promised he'd be safe, but after getting the money they killed him."

Ah, _that_ was why I knew the name.

"Unless your father's utterly brainless and refuses to follow our instructions, you will be fine, as will he. Exploiting the Japanese police chief then killing his daughter would hardly benefit us, given the inevitable backlash. I can only imagine how many we'd have to blackmail and bribe to keep that quiet."

Sayu breathed a sigh of relief and seemed to believe me, thankfully.

"I can only hope you're telling the truth," she replied as she curled around the arm of the futon. "Though I'm not afraid of being murdered, I have to admit I fear dying with the knowledge that it was because I was dumb enough to get myself abducted. Light certainly wouldn't let that happen to him, which is good because our family would go through far more anguish if he died than me. I'm the cheerful, fun-loving little sister and he's the shining star, with good reason. He's handsome, brilliant, successful and admired by everyone."

Cheerful and fun-loving aside, this scenario had a haunting familiarity about it.

"What a prat," I stated bluntly. "How do you stand living in the shadow of someone so insufferable?"

Bewildered, she turned to look at me.

"Insufferable? Why would you think that?" She was genuinely curious and apparently not offended.

"Because I've _known_ a Light. They're just how you described your brother, always coming out on top no matter what and dismissing anyone who refuses to remain inferior. You'll never matter, never earn their respect or acknowledgement even if you work your whole life desperately seeking it. _You'll always be second, accept it_, they seem to say to you whenever they look at you"

Reality flooded back at me as I noted the chocolate melting over the glove on my tight fist and Sayu, who'd moved to the middle of the couch and watched me in concern. The only thing more mortifying would be if she became a mother hen, cooing and hugging me.

It didn't happen. Instead, she returned her attention to the telly, pretending to watch a shampoo advert.

Good, I thought as I licked off the revolting mess all over my hand. _She's apparently pretending it never happened._

"I didn't mean to hit a sore spot. I swear I had no idea," she said, making me cringe. "Personally I think you've done a lot in life, even if it wasn't the path I'd have chosen."

The hostage was reassuring her captor after knowing him less than an hour. It had to be the fastest case of Stockholm syndrome known to man.

I gave an indifferent grunt, the closest she'd get to a thank you, and headed to the adjacent washroom to remove what I couldn't lick off my glove. I made sure to close the door before turning on the light. It was bad enough Sayu knew my voice and could partially make out my face in the television's glow. If she got a good look at me it could lead to trouble, given that she would undoubtedly be answering questions from the SPK, NPA and perhaps the FBI later.

I re-emerged moments later and found she'd grabbed a pillow from under the futon and lay down. The time difference must have finally hit her.

"I didn't know this room had a bathroom," she called out. "I'd been worrying about that."

"You also have two floor lamps in here and a pager on the table for emergencies," I rattled off.

She picked up the pager, squinting at it.

"Who will I get if I use this? Not the men who abducted me I hope," she inquired warily.

"No. You'll get the only one in this whole Mafia I can actually trust," I shot back sardonically as I slammed and locked the door.

* * *

**Sayu**

_Apparently I won't be bound this time_, I noted as I stood on the warehouse roof waiting. I was blindfolded, but didn't mind this much, considering it meant I didn't have to look at the men surrounding me. Not that I could see much if I wanted, considering the clouds of smoke around me caused by my nicotine craving companions.

The wind began to swirl around me, deafening and blowing hard enough to practically knock me over. A mix of relief and dread came over me at the helicopter's arrival since it meant everything would be over soon and I'd be curled up in a seat beside my father, travelling home in just hours. Or at least this is what I hoped.

I jolted as someone poked me hard in the back with an elbow and made a demand in English. Apparently no one but Mello knew I spoke next to no English, or at least didn't remember. Assuming he meant for me to walk, I took two large steps forwards until I banged against something metal. I cried out, grabbing my soon to be bruised shin.

Off went the blindfold by someone and the man behind me elbowed me in the back again. Given that the helicopter stood directly in front of me, it was now certain they wanted me to step up and into the passenger side. I obliged, if only to make the shoving stop.

Horror rushed over me as I got a glimpse of the sneering, winking pilot. I hadn't gotten to see his face earlier since his back was to the TV, but somehow I recognised him, even before he let his expression give it away.

Immediately the world grew black again as the blindfold returned. I wasn't sure if I minded this, given that it would keep me from seeing Pervert.

We rose into the sky soon after as I tried to forget my companion and focus on better things; the greenhouse effect warming my face, running into Dad's arms, and sleeping in my own bed instead of that hard, thin futon.

_Listen to me, I sound like a seven year old coming home from camp._

Through some miracle the trick worked as I submerged myself in my thoughts, allowing my imagination and the rhythmic flap of the propellers to soothe me. I barely heard the man as he took directions from his headset.

I was in whatever lay between asleep and awake when I noted a dropping sensation. We must've been landing.

The second the engine shut off, I felt my way out of the cabin and to the ground. There was no way I'd allow _him_ to shove me out. Hot, sticky air with great gusts of wind greeted me.

As I leaned against the copter, I wondered what would happen next and whether I could remove the blindfold. The man answered for me when he whipped it off.

This must've been how insects under rocks felt when someone turned the rock over. Everything was blinding, from the heat to the sand. It was like the Sahara, only with a few rocks here and there.

At the sound of electric beeps, I turned my head to find Pervert saying something into his cellphone. The voice on the other end was haughty, English, and probably not reassuring to anyone on earth but me.

The exchange proved to be short-lived as the man put the phone down and stared at a long, jointed metal strip I only then noticed. It slowly arched back and up, like a scared cat on its haunches, until falling back to reveal a pit.

The man roughly elbowed me in the side (that again?) and nodded his chin towards the hole. My heart began slamming against my chest as panic overcame me.

"My god, you're throwing me in there!" I shrieked, instinctively pinning myself against the helicopter.

It wasn't until I noticed him making no response that I recalled he didn't speak Japanese. I was about to resort to pantomiming dumping when Mello apparently translated on the cell to the man.

Pervert shook his head at me and made the dumping motion I was planning to. This was all I needed to remember how to let out the breath I'd been holding, but not enough to satisfy me. I had to know once and for all what I'd be facing, even if it was horrible. And because I couldn't turn to this man for answers I'd turn to the only one I could. While I doubted hearing from me would please him, I knew the youth would be honest with me.

Out of the corner of my eye, I checked to see if Pervert had hung up. To my relief he hadn't. I decided to risk it all and snatch the phone from his hands, moving faster than I believed I ever could. Knowing he'd grab for it the second I did so, I jumped away and began speaking into the phone at once so he might hesitate to attack again.

"Because Pervert is useless I want to know _right now_ exactly what is in store for me. I swear I'll have a nervous breakdown if I have to be dragged by this bastard through the underground without knowing what's ahead." My words came out loud and piercing, proving I was in fact on the verge of a breakdown. I had to be or I'd have never stolen a phone and spoken so boldy.

My captor grabbed by my arm hard enough for me to howl with pain but I held onto the phone tightly. His grip loosened a bit, given how hard it was to maintain such strength, but it still remained.

"And once again he forgets the rule against harming the hostage," Mello muttered. "Not that it wasn't to be expected when you do something so foolish as filching his phone."

Mello sighed and paused for a moment to collect his composure.

"As I'm sure you've been bright enough to infer, you will not be thrown into a pit. You will be lead down a set of steps into a chamber. Once there, you will pull a sword out from a plot device and slay a basilisk."

Given how authoritative his tone was, I didn't immediately know he was kidding. When realisation hit me, I burst out laughing, causing Pervert to let go of my arm in shock.

Now relieved, I managed to joke back, "All that trouble to save that someone that irritating little redhead? I say let her save herself."

On the other end there was a chuckle followed by a dull crack. When Mello spoke again his voice was slightly muffled.

"At the bottom of the stairs you'll come to a hallway. At the end is a revolving door. You'll stand in one side, Marcus'll stand in the other. Your father will come from a hallway in front of the doors and slide the item through a slot on Marcus' side. Once it's verified the door on your side will be opened."

This didn't sound too scary, so long as Marcus remained on his side. I said much the same to Mello.

"Then hurry up and go in," he replied testily.

"Thank you," I told him. "You're the only one here who knows I'm human."

"Yes, I'm well aware," he responded softly before his voice grew cold. "Which means if you go tell anyone more than a broad overview of what transpired over these few days, especially your speaking with me, I'll have you killed. Are we understood?"

It was nothing less than spooky how completely inhuman Mello could become when he stopped being a companion and became a Mafioso. I had to remind myself he spoke only out of self-preservation.

"I promise, I'd never put you in danger."

"Good," he said stiffly. "Now stop wasting everyone's time and go! And…tell your father not to do anything to get you killed."

The second the other end of the line clicked, Marcus yanked the phone from my hand and practically hit me in the face when he swung open the door and threw the phone in.

Having had enough of me, Marcus grabbed my upper arm again, in the same spot as before, and led me across the desert to the underground stairway. Parting with this man certainly wouldn't be such sweet sorrow, I could tell that!

--

One long hour later, I finally spotted my knight in shining armour. We were never close, more like distant relatives than father and daughter ever since I stopped being a wide eyed little girl and became an individual. But even with a glass pane separating us, all the invisible barriers between us were gone, at least for this one moment.

I watched Dad talking in English with Marcus, who had put on a garish gas mask after coming down here. I grew so intent upon studying my father and trying to forget Marcus that I let out a scream and threw myself back against the wall as three deafening bangs hit the separator between Marcus and me. When I dared peek at the place of impact, I saw the man holding a smoking gun. Ah, bullets. No wonder it was so loud.

For a short while the two men continued talking with each other and with an altered voice on the intercom, which I assumed was either Mello or the "Boss" he mentioned. Then Marcus suddenly signalled for Dad to insert something through the slot in the glass. This I knew would be when he handed over the money from the briefcase, since I doubted the case itself was narrow enough for the slot.

I waited, but instead of sliding in the briefcase or what lay inside, Dad put it down and from his back pocket took out a slim black notebook some kid had written on the front of in English with an eraser. I knew the first word but could only guess "note" was "noto" in English.

It didn't make sense, why would an America crime group abduct someone from clear across the world for a teenager's notebook? Couldn't they just force the NPA to mail the book or whatever was in it? But then again, why would anyone in the NPA have it in the first place?

The two men argued until the intercom voice said something with "kill" in it, making me flinch. It was obviously a scare tactic to force Dad to hand over the notebook and it worked beautifully. He screamed at the voice not to kill me in a tone that sent chills down my back, and reluctantly opened the notebook (blank) and held it in the slot.

Now I was even more bewildered. Why would a blank notebook be this important that Dad would need to be threatened with my life to hand it over?

After more arguing with dad, Marcus wrote a name in the book. All was quiet for over half a minute until suddenly on the intercom there came a gurgling, gasping sound like someone being strangled. I covered my ears and prayed for it to finally end.

A thump came through the intercom and the voice said something with that horrible word in it; dead. Oh God, they just murdered someone over there and broadcast it! These people were monsters, why would Mello ever be with them? He wasn't warm, far from it at times, but he certainly wasn't soulless like they were. There had to be a good reason he joined, perhaps to help a friend who got tied up with them or to avenge the death of a loved one killed by a rival gang.

Marcus nodded and accepted the book. He pushed a button on the wall and with a small whoosh of air the door turned, leaving me an opening. I looked to Dad for approval and received a relieved nod in return.

I practically flew into his arms, holding on as tight as humanly possible. It was all over. This wasn't Lindbergh, exactly as promised. _But someone did die_, a voice in my head reminded me.

"I was so scared I'd lose you," he whispered in a choked voice, succeeding in pushing the voice from my head.

Reluctantly we pulled away, both teary-eyed. I noticed him covering my shoulders with his coat, despite the heat, but barely noticed my surroundings as we headed down the hallway and up the steps, back to the desert.

I soon found myself facing yet another helicopter, but this time I wasn't shoved in and blindfolded. Instead, Dad gently helped me inside as carefully as he might his mother. The pilot, a friendly looking man with tidy blond hair, flashed me a bright smile.

"Ah, here she is, the bravest girl in Japan, and perhaps America too."

I laughed politely, hoping I wasn't blushing.

"Somehow I doubt that," I countered as I took my seat.

As I glanced at Dad settling in, I wondered if maybe we could forget all the past arguments and lectures and start over. Maybe we could finally just sit and talk, like friends for once. I wanted to know all he'd endured and he would surely want to know the same.

All hopes of this died away at the distant look on Dad's face and the sight of him rooting through his briefcase. We may have been heading to Japan together but mentally we were on separate continents.

I squeezed his hand, reassuring him of my presence, but all he managed was a quick, poignant smile for me before returning to his open briefcase. I shook my head, laughing at the familiarity of it all; me reaching out and Dad pulling away. He was the same with Mom, and I sometimes wondered if Mom ever came to accept being shut out as I did long ago.

My fingers, with their chipped lavender polish, pressed against the window as I idly panned the darkening landscape outside. Far away I spotted another helicopter, this one very familiar. Though I couldn't see the pilot, I already knew who it was and unconsciously touched my sore upper arm.

In an instant, the scene changed as the copter exploded into a great ball of flames and thick smoke. I gasped, hand instinctively going to my mouth, but I couldn't look away.

The cloud grew darker, angrier, as debris began drifting to the ground. Was the man part of this or had he become ash in his aerial crematorium?

_Was this because of what he did to me? Please, don't let something so horrible be my doing, don't let me be a murderer!_

This could only be the reason he was assigned this part of the job. The lamb sent to slaughter.

_"That fucker will pay for what he did."_ Those words, said in that indifferent tone, swam up through my memories, nearly drowning me.

Now I knew it; I was mostly if not fully responsible for this murder.

What frightened and sickened me more than this revelation was the greater one that followed. It was only the witnessing of this horror and my own stake in it that bothered me. The act itself left me only with a sense of shock and…relief. This outcome Mello seemed to know when he'd implied what lay in store for his fellow gang member.

Like Moses, Kira parted the world, rewarding those he naively labelled Righteous and condemning the Damned. But was he not aware that such a line never existed, that one could house both sides within themselves simultaneously?

**The End**


End file.
